


Constellations Behind Your Eyes

by LacePendragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Past regret, Second Chance Romance, Softer V7, V7 Era, past relationship, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: James goes for a walk in the gardens one night. He doesn't expect to bump into Qrow. He doesn't expect the conversation that follows.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 34
Kudos: 155





	Constellations Behind Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Another soft oneshot for the hiatus. I wanted to play with the concept of the two of them as exes, and I thought this was an interesting way to make it work.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

It was surprising, how quiet Atlas was for such a huge city, and something James hadn’t truly appreciated until he’d returned from Vale. The city of Vale was a constant bustle of noise and people, made louder and more intense by the tournament. Atlas, by contrast, despite its massive population, seemed quieter, more peaceful, and altogether… calmer. Perhaps it was the nature of Atlas’ population, or perhaps it was the cold and the snow.

No matter the reason, James appreciated the peace. It was a different sort of quiet than that of his office, where the silence clung to the walls and slithered into his ears, desperate to drag his anxieties and fears into the open air.

Sometimes, he wished he could talk to someone about all those fears, but mostly, he recognized that, as the General, as the headmaster, it was his duty to be strong. He wondered if this was what Ozpin had felt like, leading their inner circle and being a headmaster as well.

These thoughts plagued James as he wandered the grounds of Atlas Academy, circling the massive campus as a way to sort out his thoughts and unwind after a long day in the office. Plans for converting the Amity Coliseum were going well, and the Grimm activity was at an all-time low in Mantle. Repairs made with material found in the academy storehouses had gone a long way to improving relations, and the election was fast approaching.

There were times when James wondered if he could control the outcome of that election without anyone noticing. Some way, any way, to prevent Jacques from taking a seat on the council. Robyn, he could reason with. She seemed to be warming up to him and his teams as they helped Mantle. Showing her Amity had gone a long way, as well, as had explaining the need for secrecy.

Of course, the details of Salem remained hidden from her, if only until she joined the Council.

Honesty, while something he’d always valued, had never been at the forefront of his plans until Ms. Valkyrie had chewed him out in from of the Ace-Ops for his secrecy and fears. Her angry shouts, which still echoed in his ears if he thought about them, had started the chain of thoughts which changed his mind about secrets. Some people couldn’t be controlled, but they could still be trusted.

Yet, here he was, debating stealing an election, his need for control as strong as it had always been.

He wondered if he shouldn’t find a way to thank Nora. A gif basket, perhaps, or a reservation for two at a nice restaurant in Atlas. He’d seen her interactions with Lie Ren and suspected the two would enjoy a night together. Of course, that meant arranging for the bill to be sent to his account, rather than put on them, as well as ensuring they had suitable clothing for the night.

Perhaps the younger teams would like a shopping day? Kids liked shopping, didn’t they?

James sighed, drawing himself out of his thoughts to find he was in the gardens around the back of Atlas Academy. He smiled, a small thing, but there all the same, and felt some of the tension release from his shoulders.

The gardens had been planted early on in his time as headmaster of Atlas Academy. He’d wanted to encourage a green space where the students could go to relax and spend time in peace, away from their studies. The high bushes and hanging branches of trees provided a great deal of privacy, allowing students to seclude themselves away from prying eyes.

James always carefully avoided thinking about what, precisely, they’d need that privacy for. They had their dorm rooms and suspiciously unlocked closets for that. The gardens were a clean place.

He moved through the tall bushes and around the willow trees. It was cool in the gardens, with the heating grid turned low in this area. The plants were in hibernation, because of that, but the evergreens and cold weather plants remained beautiful and thriving. In a month’s time, the heating grid would begin to warm the garden, changing it from snow to grass.

But, until then, it was a winter wonderland, and the layer of powdered snow further dampened the noise of the city all around.

There were no students in the gardens tonight, as far as James could tell. He suspected it was due to the snow, or the time. It was late, nearing midnight, and if the students weren’t asleep, they were studying, or tucked into their dorms, doing whatever it was teenagers did in the middle of the night. Playing board games or drinking illegally or punching each other as a show of machoism and bravado.

Things of that sort, anyway.

He could only go by what he’d done as a student. Though, he suspected the current generation of hunting students didn’t study nearly as much as he had. He’d been a bit of an outlier.

James clasped his hands behind his back and strolled through the maze-like arrangement of bushes, his steps slow but his destination clear. The centre of the garden had a nice bench that provided a clear view of the open sky. It was a clear night, so clear that the moon and stars turned the garden pale with their soft, white light. James hoped to spend some time looking at the stars.

However, as he turned the last corner into the centre of the maze, he found himself staring at the back of Qrow Branwen.

James stopped, his breathing hitching in his chest as he looked over Qrow. His hands were splayed behind him on the Dust-warmed stone of the wide bench. His feet kicked out in front of him, as well. He leaned back, staring up at the stars, seemingly unaware of James.

The light of the night cast Qrow into a soft glow. He was, in a word, ethereal. His presence in the garden felt almost like a gift, though one James could not be certain of. Qrow was beautiful, and intelligent, and one of James’ closest friends.

But he was also the love of James’ life, and Qrow had ended their relationship, fraught and turbulent as it had been, almost ten years ago.

James wasn’t good at letting go, and for Qrow, even less so.

He shouldn’t have been here, staring at Qrow like this. It was an invasion of privacy, and it pulled at the trust and friendship the two had been rebuilding ever since Qrow had arrived in Atlas, trailed by his gaggle of children.

He turned to leave, only to step on a branch. Qrow’s head tilted toward him with the same ease he had been staring at the sky. No tension, no worry. It seemed that Qrow hadn’t, even for a moment, been worried for his safety.

James wondered what that sort of ease felt like. Every time one of his detractors fell, he feared falsely sought retaliation even more.

“James,” said Qrow, his voice gentle. “What’re you doing out here?”

James swallowed. “I could ask you the same thing.” He cleared his throat, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. Why was it so hard to speak to Qrow? Was it their past? Or was it the notion of their future? One where the hug James had given Qrow meant more than just relief at his being alive.

Qrow shifted to one side of the bench, sitting up, and patted the space next to him. James couldn’t find a reason to say no, and so he crossed the snow-covered space and took a seat next to Qrow. The bench, while deep, wasn’t long enough for them not to touch, and as James settled, his right arm brushed against Qrow’s. Electricity danced up his spine and he tried not to show his reaction.

That hug had been the most he’d touched Qrow in years. It had surprised him when Qrow hadn’t pushed him away. He’d figured Qrow would, but he’d needed the contact, the proof that Qrow was alive and well, solid under James’ fingers.

He longed to reach out again and touch Qrow, to prove to himself, over and over, that Qrow was there and real. That this wasn’t just a dream. Sometimes, despite the nightmares that plagued his sleep, he was convinced his waking moments must have been dreams. What else could they have been? In the midst of war and hell, he’d been granted a sanctuary of friends and understanding, likeminded companions. Love and trust where he thought he’d only ever commanded loyalty and respect.

He blamed the children for that. They were young and idealistic in ways James hadn’t been in so long. It was refreshing to see those who could look to the future, even knowing the truth, and see hope, rather than fear.

“You didn’t actually answer my question,” said Qrow. He leaned back again and stared up at the sky. The brilliant stars shone overhead, thousands of constellations watching them all. James knew so many of them, but there were so many more to learn. He swore to memorize them all, some day.

“I was in the mood for a walk,” said James. “And I wanted to look at the stars.”

Qrow chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I get that. You know, for a city as big as Atlas, the stars sure are brilliant up here. You’d think the light pollution would destroy the sky but…” Qrow shook his head. “Feels like being out in the middle of nowhere, looking up at the sky.”

“That’s by design,” said James, tilting his head to look at Qrow. “I had the lights in the city changed out to minimize light pollution. I thought it would be useful for tracking Grimm populations and maintaining energy levels.”

Qrow grinned at him. “That’s what you told the Council. You just wanted to look at the stars, didn’t you? I know what you’re about, James. Always did have your eyes on the sky.”

James’ chest warmed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d told Qrow about his love of the sky and the stars. To know that Qrow remembered… it made him smile.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmured. He let his gaze flit back to the sky. It was winter, which meant the Seven Huntresses constellation was just off true north, and the Maidens were down near the horizon. There were a dozen other constellations in the sky that James wanted to point out, but he wasn’t sure if Qrow would be interested.

Perhaps he would. When they’d dated, James had spent many a night sitting on rooftops or on balconies with Qrow, picking out constellations and stars, telling Qrow all the myths and science that intertwined in the stories of those stars.

But maybe that had only been for his benefit.

“Although,” said James, softly, “nothing I said was untrue. It does help with light pollution and allows for better long-distance tracking of Grimm.” He shifted to lean next to Qrow, his hands pressed into the bench behind him and his shoulder brushing Qrow’s.

“Seems like a lot of work to justify beauty,” said Qrow. “But then, you Atlesians always feel the need to justify everything with science and duty and all that.” Qrow gave a quiet huff. “Everything’s gotta be useful. Can’t just be pretty.”

James hummed. “I disagree. I think much of Atlas is based on aesthetic, rather than utility.”

“Aesthetic isn’t beauty,” said Qrow, shrugging. “Aesthetic is building everything to fit a theme, and Atlas’ theme is clean and utilitarian. Just because it looks a certain way doesn’t mean it’s without purpose. Everything is utility in Atlas.” Qrow tilted his head and looked at James, his brow furrowed and his eyes distant. “No one’s safe from it.”

There was a weight to those words, soft and distant as they were, that had James tensing where he sat. He grimaced and looked from Qrow, to the stars, to Qrow again. But he found he couldn’t speak, looking into Qrow’s soft, rust-coloured gaze, and so he turned his attention back to the stars.

“That’s not true. So many of the young people in Atlas are claiming a style of their own. Look at Team FNKI,” said James. He shifted his hand closer to Qrow’s.

“It’s rebellion,” said Qrow. “That’s a use unto itself. It works to show them as different from the rest. Those colours, that style, it marks them as different. A use.”

James snorted. “By that logic, everything has a use.” It was, perhaps, a bitter way to look at things, but if rebellion unto itself was a purpose, then didn’t everything have a purpose? James’ outfits were designed to hide his body from the public, to shift his silhouette to something more human. His beard was a way to hide his facial expressions and to be one less thing to take care of.

His inner circle, his trust in the Ace-Ops, in Winter, in Penny. All of it had purpose. Everything about James had _purpose._

Except Qrow.

Perhaps that was why their relationship had been doomed to fail. James wasn’t allowed to have things just for him. Everything had to be for the greater good, for the world, for the sake of destroying Salem, etc., etc.

Sometimes, most of the time, it was exhausting. It was painful.

It was awful.

Sometimes, he just wanted something for _him._ But was that too selfish, too soft, too dangerous, given the world they currently lived in?

“I guess if you look at it that way,” said Qrow.

James frowned. “I didn’t. You did.”

Qrow gave a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I did. Didn’t quite mean it that way, though.”

“Then how did you mean it?” asked James. He looked from the stars to the bushes all around them. The light coating of snow on everything seemed to muffle even their own words, and the fog of his breath in the air seemed to dance on the breeze. How else _could_ Qrow have meant those words?

Was Qrow going down the same line of thinking as him?

“Lemme see if I can phrase this better,” said Qrow. “Team FNKI uses colours as a form of rebellion, to show how different they are from the Atlas norm. Ergo, purpose.” Qrow shifted and gestured with one hand, the other still leaning behind him. “RWBY and JNR, they use colour as part of who they are. There’s no intent behind it other than being themselves. For them, there’s no _purpose_ to their outfits. We might see it, from the outside, but the intent isn’t there.” He looked at James. “Does that make more sense?”

James frowned. It did, to a degree. It reminded him of the Ace-Ops. Clover, Harriet, Elm, Vine, they had all altered their uniforms to fit their tastes. There was purpose to some of it – Elm needed her feet free to use her semblance, Harriet needed her thighs bare, or else she could set her clothes on fire, using her own – but Clover had largely altered his uniform based on his own tastes. By contrast, Marrow hadn’t altered his at all, because, as far as James could tell, Marrow feared that straying outside of the standard would cause him harm, because he was already different from the rest of the Ace-Ops.

Purpose, but in conformity. Non-conformity without purpose.

“To an extent,” said James. “But I do still disagree on the first point. There is plenty in Atlas without purpose, and plenty of beauty that exists just to be beautiful.”

“You really believe that?” asked Qrow. He shrugged. “All right, like what?”

“What about this garden?” asked James, gesturing to the space around them. “Yes, it exists to help students destress, but the extent of the garden is unnecessary for that. There were many other low maintenance ways to decrease stress and increase morale. The garden was actually the lowest on the list for efficiency.”

“So, why pick it?” asked Qrow, raising both eyebrows.

“Because beauty doesn’t always need to be justified,” said James, meeting Qrow’s gaze with his own. “And I thought this school could stand to have more beauty.”

Qrow cracked a smile and looked away, shaking his head. “Yeah.” He gave a little chuckle. “You got me there.” He hummed. “I guess I didn’t give you enough credit.”

“Me?” asked James.

Qrow nodded. “You said it yourself, you picked the garden. You had the lights changed. Sure, you justified them other ways, but those two things are for beauty, Jim. And…” Qrow shook his head. “I’m willing to bet most of the beautiful things in Atlas are your doing.”

_Jim._

Brothers, when was the last time Qrow had called him that? James knew. It was when Qrow had broken it off with him. Since then, it had only been James, when Qrow felt friendly, or Jimmy, when he felt like pissing James off.

“I’ve been trying,” said James, quietly. “I want Atlas to be worth living in, not just for safety, but for its culture, its livelihood.” He loved his kingdom. He wanted the world to love it just as he did. “Yes, we have a fantastic military, but our military isn’t all we are. The people of Atlas deserve a diverse, artistic culture like any other kingdom.”

“What about the Grimm?” asked Qrow. James looked at the stars and sighed. He’d had a feeling Qrow would ask that question. Everyone did, eventually. Atlas had shut off its culture, its art, its emotions, before the Great War to avoid the Grimm. Even now, eighty years later, the echoes of that emotional scar still lingered.

Generational emotional trauma. He’d researched it many a time. And in his research, he’d always been seeking out the answer to one question: how did he undo, or begin to undo, the harm done to his people?

“Misery breeds Grimm. Art breeds joy. The people of Atlas, and Mantle, are already in turmoil from so much. Art can’t possibly cause more harm than good,” he replied.

“Do you believe that? Or is that what you tell the Council, when they get on your case?” asked Qrow.

James shook his head. The cynicism wasn’t new, per se, but it was definitely more evident than it had been, in the past. It wasn’t a product of his sobriety, as he’d been more cynical when he was drunk. Maybe it was the state of the world. Maybe it was the night.

“I have to believe it,” said James, after a long minute of silence. “Art is such an important part of who we are as a people, Qrow. Without art, life isn’t nearly as beautiful and worthwhile.”

Qrow chuckled. “You won’t hear me argue that. You’ve seen how I fight.”

He had. James loved to watch Qrow fight. When he really got into it, Qrow was a dancer. Mostly ballet and absolutely stunning, as if he was classically trained and ready for the stage. Qrow had turned what he did into an artform in a way that James had never seen another hunter do.

It wasn’t a stretch to say that Qrow made the killing of Grimm, the slaughter of monsters, beautiful.

“I have,” agreed James. “You’re beautiful.”

He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. His ears and cheeks burned, flushing hot as he realized what he’d said.

Qrow looked at him and smiled, eyes twinkling. “You think?” he asked. He let out a quiet chuckle and reached up, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “You’ve always said that, you know? It was never ‘handsome’ or anything manly. You always had to call me beautiful.”

James opened his mouth, then closed it. When he thought back, he realized Qrow was right. He’d never called Qrow handsome, unless he was teasing. It was always beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, pretty, cute. Things like that. Qrow wasn’t what James _would_ call handsome. It felt like an insult to his beauty, to reduce him to such a stereotypical male word.

“Is that a bad thing?” asked James, tilting his head slightly.

Qrow shook his head. “No. It wasn’t then, and it isn’t now.” He turned his attention back to the stars and James watched Qrow watch the sky. “You always did have a way with words.”

“It certainly doesn’t feel that way, most of the time.” James gave a quiet sigh and looked to the stars. He tracked a few of the constellations and frowned. “Some days, I feel as though all I say is the wrong thing.” He frowned.

A brush against his gloved fingers had him starting, and he looked down to see Qrow slipping his fingers between James’. James dragged his gaze up and looked at Qrow, was who watching the stars with a pink tinge brushing his cheekbones. His long eyelashes seemed to hold the starlight. The light turned him ethereal.

It felt, to James, that if he tried to reach out and touch Qrow, he’d pass right through him. This beauty, this light, could not exist in the same world as the darkness they faced on a daily basis.

“You do well enough,” said Qrow. His voice was a ghost, whispering through the air. His fingers tightened against James’ and James looked down at their hands and smiled. He wanted to take off his gloves and twist his metal fingers with Qrow’s, twine flesh and iron together until there was no beginning or end to either.

In all the time since James had lost half his body, only Qrow had ever made him feel whole again.

Losing that had been as bad, if not worse, as losing his limbs all over again.

“Qrow…” James bit the inside of his cheek before he could say anything else. He didn’t want to ruin a lovely moment with his words, his feelings. He’d already pushed it far enough, tonight.

“I’ve missed you.” Qrow’s words were so gentle that, for a moment, James thought he might have imagined them. If not for the blush that dusted Qrow’s cheeks, he would have kept thinking he’d imagined them.

“Qrow?”

Qrow cleared his throat. “It’s funny. All this time, all these years… it never occurred to me what I’d lost until we were on the road.” He stared at the stars, but his gaze seemed far away, trapped in another world, or perhaps just another time. “But when I was poisoned, I kept thinking how much I’d regret, if I died then.”

James swallowed. His heart thundered in his ears and his lips felt very dry, all of a sudden. He licked them, but found his tongue and mouth just as dry and sandpapery.

Was it Qrow’s words, doing this to him? Or the acknowledgement of that horrible time on the road? James had heard some of the details of Qrow’s fight with Tyrian, one of Salem’s minions, and the poisoning. Ruby had filled him in on what Qrow didn’t remember, which was most of it.

Still, to hear what Qrow had thought of, when he’d thought he might be dying, was something else entirely.

“What would you regret?” asked James. He couldn’t bring his voice above a raspy whisper. A spell had come over the central part of the garden, one that James didn’t dare break. If it did, he feared he and Qrow would never have this moment again.

“This,” whispered Qrow. He slid his hand deeper against James’, his fingers lifting and sliding across the back of James’ gloved hand. He turned his head toward James and James sucked in a breath, his chest seizing at the softness on Qrow’s face. “You.”

“I…” James swallowed. “Qrow, I don’t understand.”

“I made a mistake.” Qrow blew his bangs from his eyes and stared up at James through his long, delicate eyelashes. They still held starlight. James wanted to reach out and touch them. “I never should have ended us, James. I was scared of what I was, of dragging you down, of what I was becoming.” Qrow grimaced and looked away, ducking his head. “I’m better now. Still not worthy of you, but better, sober. I’m trying.”

James reached out with his free hand and cupped Qrow’s cheek with it, gently turning Qrow’s head back toward him. He ran his thumb beneath Qrow’s eye and met Qrow’s gaze as he lifted it.

“It’s not too late,” said James. His heart thundered in his chest. Beneath his gloves, his hands were sweating. His fingers trembled. “We’re here. We’re alive.”

“Are you willing?” asked Qrow.

James smiled. “I’ve been willing this whole time.”

Qrow shifted, moving forward on the bench and leaning toward James. Their knees bumped together, Qrow tangled their hands tight together between them, and his other hand lifted, resting on James’ chest.

“I’ve missed you,” whispered James.

“I’m staying,” whispered Qrow in the space between them. He leaned forward and so did James, closing the distance between them.

It’d been almost ten years since James had last kissed Qrow, but it felt like it had only been days, hours. The warmth of his lips, the gentle brush of his nose against James’, the feel of his hair against James’ forehead, it all spoke to something deep within him that he’d forgotten about.

And it felt like coming _home._

James deepened the kiss, pushing against Qrow as Qrow opened his mouth against his. They drank each other in, tongues tracing each other and breaths intermingling in the miniscule space between them.

When they pulled back, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy from intensity, not loss, James shifted to lean their foreheads together. His eyes fluttered open and he found Qrow staring back at him, a quiet smile on his face.

“Hi,” whispered Qrow.

“Hello,” replied James, equally breathless. They both gave quiet laughs. “What do we do now?” asked James.

Qrow’s eyes seemed to twinkle with the stars. “Still got a world to save. Still got people to lead.”

James nodded and tightened his fingers against Qrow’s cheek and in Qrow’s hand. “And a few selfish reasons to do so,” he said.

Qrow’s smile grew. “Yeah,” he agreed. He leaned in and kissed James again, and again. And as James’ eyes fluttered shut and he felt Qrow’s eyelashes brush his cheeks, he couldn’t help but smile.

The garden really did cast a spell on those within.

One James wouldn’t change for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always incredibly appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!


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